


Black Coffee

by cpacesowboyed



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Exy (All For The Game), Andrew Minyard Has Feelings, Andrew Minyard Loves Neil Josten, Coffee Shops, Everyone Is Alive, Exy (All For The Game), F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Neil Josten as Nathaniel Wesninski, Neil Josten is a Little Shit, Oblivious Neil Josten, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Andrew Minyard, Sassy Neil Josten, Seth Gordon Lives, Slow Burn, for now, more bad fanfic that i wrote at 3 am, please spare me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25143958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cpacesowboyed/pseuds/cpacesowboyed
Summary: Andrew Minyard wasn’t poor. He just wasn’t rich.  His situation wasn’t an ideal one but he didn’t really have a choice, did he? Working two jobs was just enough to keep food on the table and the lights on, and that was enough. But Andrew might have to begin splitting his tips with Stuart Hatford's snarky nephew who turns out to be a bit of a coffee elitist. This is the story of how Andrew found himself falling for his oblivious, jock co-worker.People who say coffee shop AU's are overrated can catch these hands, but can Andrew stop himself from catching feelings?
Relationships: Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Matt Boyd/Danielle "Dan" Wilds, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	1. Does Spit Cost Extra?

**Author's Note:**

> I am once again, starting a fanfic without finishing my others

Andrew Minyard wasn’t poor. He just wasn’t rich. The difference between the two was that not being poor meant working two jobs was just enough to keep food on the table and the lights on. Being rich meant that he had enough money to get the hell out of Palmetto and not look back. Next time you begin to think that there is no distinction, realize that there is-and it is _astronomical_.

Six days a week at Hatford’s Coffee, tutoring kids at the local high school whenever he could, and whatever time he had left was spent doing online courses. This was the life of Andrew Minyard. It wasn’t an ideal situation but he didn’t really have a choice, did he? After being adopted by his biological mother at the age of sixteen, Andrew had spent the last two years working tooth and nail just to provide for her and his brother. Sometimes he thought that the only reason Tilda took him in was because she didn’t feel like working anymore. After the papers were signed he could've run, but he stayed for Aaron. Everything came down to his devotion to his brother. If Aaron told him to jump, all Andrew would have to ask is how high. It didn’t really matter in the end anyway. He was out of the system, and in a few months, he’d be out of high school. He could endure this for a little while longer. Whatever _this_ was. He’d endured worse, after all.

“Andrew, did you get any of that?” Stuart Hatford wrote something down on a clipboard. His accent made Andrew wonder what he was doing in South Carolina. Running a small coffee shop couldn’t have been the answer, it just seemed too simple. He guessed that it was all just a front for the mafia. His position didn’t offer him clearance to information like that though.

“No.” But he did. Stuart's sister and nephew were in town. For how long, Stuart didn’t know. The nephew was going to be working with Andrew behind the counter and blah blah blah. He’d probably quit within the month like everyone else. Andrew was the employee under who'd been under Stuarts hire the longest. Renee only worked during summers, the rest of the year was reserved for Exy. There was Seth, but he quit just as soon as he started. Roland was arrested. Andrew could probably put a name to every face who stood next to him, brewing coffee. He didn’t waste time proving it but he could.

“He starts tomorrow. Do you think you could train him or do I have to ask Renee to come in?”

“Will we have to split the tips?” He always tried to split tips with Renee, even if he pretended not to notice the way she slid more bills into his cut than her own. 

“Don’t put me in the middle of that. You two decide when he gets here.”

“Aye aye, captain.” 

Hartford left, and Andrew continued to work his shift. No one was in the cafe other than a few college students working on their up-coming bestseller novel or screenplay and a couple of locals. He allowed himself to look at his phone. 

He didn’t have many notifications considering he was what others would consider an “outlier”. There were a few emails from students asking for tutoring sessions. Cat videos from his cousin, Nicky. Nicky was in Germany but that distance didn’t seem to stop him from bombarding him with texts all hours of the day and night if you applied the six-hour time difference. It didn't matter how far he was, it still wouldn't be far enough from Nicholas Hemmick's constant badgering. A text from Aaron that said:

**This new kid started a fight on D1**

His phone dinged again:

**Katelyn sent this to me**

Aaron had been trying to get Andrew and Katelyn to make friends with each other for months. When was he going to realize that it wasn’t going to happen? Andrew was too busy for friends and if that wasn’t reason enough, he just didn’t like Katelyn. 

Attached to the texts was a video of some redhead arguing with a person much bigger than him. He went from pointing fingers to throwing punches. It went on for a few seconds before they were pulled apart. Neither ended up triumphant but the video was entertaining enough and the boy in it wasn’t boring either. He replayed the video a second time at a slower pace, pausing every few frames to get a better look.

“Ahem.”

“Yeah?” Andrew didn’t look away from his phone. What was Stuart going to do, fire him for being rude to _one_ customer? Then who would work in this shit-palace?

“What do you recommend?” 

“The frappuccino menu isn’t terrible.” It really wasn't thanks to Andrew and his expert taste in sweets.

“Really? Isn’t that kind of…” The customer trailed off and Andrew gazed up to make sure he was still there. 

The person in front of him had his blue eyes trained on the chalkboard menu. He wore a faded blue hoodie and his red hair was riffled into an incomprehensible mess. 

Looking back at the paused video, he realized the boy was also wearing a blue hoodie, but it was too blurry to see the exact quality of it. He asked, “Did you get into any fights recently?”

“What?”

“Do I really have to explain what a fight is?”

“No.” He looked confused before saying, “I mean, yes, I was in a fight today. You saw it?”

“I see everything, you’d do well to remember that. Are you going to order?”

“Are you usually this creepy?”

“Do you usually take this long to say you want a coffee?”

“Aren’t fraps really sugary? They don’t even count as coffee.”

“Fuck you, they count as coffee.” 

“How?” He laughed. It wasn’t a bad one either. It was the kind that sent a pleasant chill down his spine.

“They’ve got caffeine in them, don’t they.”

“I guess...can I just get a black coffee?”

Andrew regarded him for a moment. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m contemplating whether or not I’m going to spit in it.”

“Well,” he pulled five singles out of his pocket and set them on the counter, “does spit cost extra? Because I don’t know if I can afford spit  _ and _ a tip.”

“It’s on the house.” Andrew put three dollars in a glass jar marked "TIPS", pulled a plastic cup from a stack, and took the Sharpie that sat on his ear. “Name?”

“Nathaniel. My friends call me Neil.”

“That’s stupid. I’m putting down Junkie.”

“Rude...Junkie?”

“Yeah, Junkie.”

This entire conversation seemed to be entertaining to Neil and Andrew would be lying if he said it wasn’t entertaining to him either. “What exactly do I have an addiction to?”

He flipped his phone screen around and played the video. “Starting fights.”

“Whatever, he started it. Said I was short.”

“You  _ are _ short.”

“Still.” And then, “You’re shorter than me.”

“Whatever you say, Junkie.”

-

Andrew went home $56 dollars richer that night. Nathaniel’s laughter still rang in his ears and he had to fight off a smile. Today wasn’t all terrible, even if someone made pasta and left it out on the stove. Even if no one did the dishes, the apartment was a mess, and he still had two classes left to complete before midnight. It wasn’t terrible at all.

Aaron’s bedroom door was open, which meant Tilda wasn’t home. That would explain why the car wasn’t parked in its usual spot and why there was no yelling.

He heard her before he saw her. Katelyn, pencil in hand, working through some worksheet with Aaron. 

She said something about integrals. Aaron said something about her cheer practice. 

The change in the atmosphere when they noticed Andrew standing in the doorway was intense. He didn’t want to find words for whatever was in front of him, but if he did, they wouldn’t be nice ones.

“Hey,” Aaron gestured at the space in front of him, cluttered with papers and erasers. “Calc homework.”

“Okay.”

“Katelyn’s really good at it.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“Andrew-”

“Aaron.”

The awkwardness was palpable. So was the tension.

“I’m going to go do...” he allowed himself a glance at Katelyn before continuing. “School. Keep it down.” 

No one really knew about the existence of Andrew Minyard, either because he didn’t want to be known or he didn't make it easy to be known. He took online classes, so he wasn’t around people his age much. Sometimes people came into the cafe and mistook him for Aaron, and other times people went to school asking Aaron for free drinks. If this angered Andrew, he didn’t show it. But there was a lot that Andrew didn’t show.  Katelyn only knew of his existence because she frequented the Minyard residence more often than he was comfortable with.

“Sure. Goodnight.” Aaron offered. 

So maybe today wasn’t terrible. But Aaron and Katelyn alone in his bedroom, obviously flirting, didn’t make it good.

-

If Andrew overslept and missed opening Hatford’s, sue him. Or don’t. Either option wasn’t going to change the fact that he was supposed to unlock the front door nearly two hours ago. Five was too early to open anyway, Stuart would have to settle for six-thirty. That’s how he figured he’d justify it when Stuart eventually questioned him about it.

“6:52” was what his phone said by the time he reached the Hatford's Coffee. No one was waiting outside, but he undoubtedly missed the early risers. He unlocked Hartford's Coffee and was surprised to find that the lights were already turned on, even if the curtains remained closed. Someone was standing behind the counter in an apron. He said:

“Hey! Spit man! I was waiting for you to get here. Some people yelled at me when I came in so I told them to fuck off.”

Andrew said: 

“What the hell is going on?” 

The boy, who Andrew now knew as Nathaniel, (Neil to his friends) replied with:

“Stu gave me keys yesterday. We’re going to be working together, spit man.”

“Don’t call me that.” This was Hatford’s nephew? There was no family resemblance at all, and that worked in Neil’s favor.

“Frap boy?”

“Somehow you’ve thought of something worse than ‘spit man’. Congratulations.”

“What do I call you, if not a witty nickname?” Neil picked up an apron that was folded on top of the counter, “Oh, wait a second…”

“I wouldn’t call them witty.” After fiddling for a name tag, Neil deciphered the lettering, then flashed it up at Andrew while wearing the biggest grin in the world. “Andrew. Has a nice ring to it. Like ‘Andrew, why do you have such shit taste in caffeinated beverages?’”

Oh. He hated Neil immediately.


	2. Learned Behaviors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This sign can't stop me because I can't read"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm just letting you all know that *john mulaney voice* i also don't want me to be doing what i'm doing

Turns out, Neil was just as bad at talking to customers as Andrew was, and he wasn’t any better when it came to actually _making_ coffee. Three burns and two dissatisfied customers later, Andrew figured it would be a lot easier to just hand him a mop and leave the rest up to Neil's digression. It was a tactic that worked for the first few weeks until Neil got busy chatting with some members of the college Exy team that only came in to mooch off of Renee’s employee discount.

Somehow, she still got an employee discount even though she was only an employee for two months out of the year. Andrew chalked this down to how much of a people-person she was. Most of the characters Neil talked up were ex-high school players who decided to continue playing in college. He recognized Matthew Boyd because he tutored him in Algebra II while he was a sophomore and Matt was a junior. Andrew wasn’t particularly good at math but eidetic memory made it easy for him to memorize formulas. Of course he knew Danielle Wilds, because the two never seemed to separate. High school sweethearts was a trope that Andrew was getting sick of. He had never properly dated anyone, but even the thought of a serious romantic relationship with someone was enough to send bile into his throat.

He knew Allison Reynolds both because she was dating Renee and her coffee order was both overcomplicated and overspecific. Allison was a woman of taste, and she tipped well. He tolerated her because of this, to say the least. Saying the most would be acknowledging the fact that he didn’t want to gouge his eyes out every time she walked through the cafe door. 

Seth Gordon was a foe, and that had nothing to do with the fact that Andrew had almost stabbed him with a plastic spork  _ that one time. _

If Andrew had ever actually liked someone, in the platonic sense, who was on the Palmetto Exy team-high school or college, there was no clear distinction between the two, in his opinion-it would’ve been Kevin Day. An Edgar Allen transfer, and Andrew’s only friend for the first few weeks he was in Palmetto. Then, he went and joined the Exy team after a very convincing conversation with Thea Muldani and stopped coming into the shop.

He said, "I don't really have time to hang out anymore."

And "Caffeine stunts your growth."

It wouldn't have been so bad if Kevin had at least sent him a text every now and then. So much for buddies, right? Despite what mathematics suggests, two negatives do not always make a positive. In this instance, two negatives made one socially accepted Kevin and one betrayed Andrew. Positive negative.

At least half of these kids weren’t originally from Palmetto, but that didn’t matter because it was Exy that brought them here. It was Exy that got them to stay and it was Exy that made it their home. 

It’s safe to say that Neil’s new-found interest in the sport only served to annoy Andrew more than his regular incompetence did, but Andrew didn’t think that this  _ hobby _ , or whatever you’d like to call it, would be much of a problem. Thanks to the public school system, Neil was out of his hair most hours on Monday through Friday. The only issue with this was that when he wasn’t in Andrew’s  _ hair,  _ he was in Andrew’s  _ head. _

When he walked into Hatford’s this particular Friday afternoon, he looked extremely Neil-ish. That was to say he looked like he had just been in several fights and won absolutely none of them. His appearance served no purpose other than to annoy Andrew.

“I saw you at school.” He removed his apron from a hanger and tied it around his waist. 

“What, and I mean this with as much grace as possible, the fuck are you talking about, Junkie?” 

"I don't know how you got here before me though. I bet I'm faster than you" 

"I don't doubt that."

Neil got himself back on track,  “So I was walking down the hall, talking to Kevin-”

"Day?"

"How many Kevin's do you know?"

“None. Why were you talking to Kevin Day?” He could deal with everyone else. Not Kevin. 

He said it as if it should’ve been the most obvious thing in the world. “We knew each other when we went to Edgar Allen.”

Nathaniel-Neil was too perfect. Of course he attended Edgar Allen. It was a breeding ground for pretty boys with tempers. Neil wasn’t the exception.

“You went to that shithole?”

“Yeah. Do I get to tell my story?”

Andrew gestured for him to continue.

“Kevin Day was feeding my ego, telling me I should join the Exy team next year, then I saw you talking to this cheerleader. I waved but you ignored me.” 

“You’re sure it was me?”

“Yes, because then Kevin said ‘Oh, that’s Minyard, he’s an asshole.”

He knew both Aaron and Andrew were assholes because there was a brief period of time in which the three were close, so that comment was probably fair. It was hard to say who was a bigger one though. Possibly Aaron. Probably Andrew.

“Aren’t you going to college next year?”  Then, after realization struck him, he said, “I never gave you my last name, it could’ve been my doppelganger. If he was flirting with a cheerleader he must have been my evil twin. I’d never flirt with a cheerleader.”

“Ha. I’m still a junior due to…” Neil’s mind moved a million miles per second. Switching from subject to subject without a second thought. “Stuart had it written on the pay stubs.”

“What?”

“Your last name. Minyard”

This was rather infuriating. Neil had no business knowing how much Andrew made. No one did. “The fuck are you doing looking at my paycheck.”

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

“Still. You have no right to-” It was unintentional but somehow, Andrew had pinned Neil  against the counter. Sometimes he saw red and it was difficult to stop. It was not going to be another spork situation. It wasn’t. “-to…”

“To…?”

Anger and something he couldn’t quite put a name to yet filled him. If he combusted, Neil would be caught in the crossfire, which he didn't think he minded. Bile was rushing forward and he couldn’t quite get a grip on the reality of this situation. Neil knew how much he made. Neil was in between his arms. Neil wouldn’t stop talking about goddamn  _ Exy  _ and _Kevin_ .

He took one step back. Two. 

Andrew turned, “I’m going on break. Don’t burn this place down. Or do. I don’t care.”

-

Some would say that the employee break room was the best place to take your lunch break. Andrew, personally, thought it was in the alleyway, right next to the dumpster. The smell didn't even bother him. Much. 

Nicotine mingled with the chilly February air.

He threw the cigarette out of his mouth seconds after lighting it, then started on another. Smoking wouldn’t solve his problems, it never did, but it certainly dulled them. 

The back door creaked open, and out came Neil. He was beginning to miss when he was the only one working in the cafe. When the only unnecessary conversation he had to engage in was with customers. 

"Hey."

When Andrew didn't respond, he took it as a hint to continue talking, 

“Look, I’m sorry. I won’t look at your paycheck anymore if that’s what you want.  Even though it was technically an accident”

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”

“Someone might've mentioned it once or twice.” A lot of things were Neil-ish. Like the smile he wore after being insulted.

"You're forgiven. This time." He couldn't tell if he really meant it.

He knew he did when Neil asked, “Do you think I should do it?”

“What?”

Neil shuffled from one foot to another, “Join the Exy team next year. I haven’t played since Freshman year but I might be good. Edgar Allen trains us like we're olympians.”

“I don’t care what you do.” Except he did. There was a tiny part of Andrew that was begging him to ask Neil to stay. To work with him behind the counter until graduation. To have witty and vaguely insulting conversations with him until the sun set. He thought better of it. 

“I think I’m going to do it.’

“Who’s working right now?”

“I closed the shop.”

“You can’t do that, we need business. Your uncle's going to be pissed.”

“So? No one was coming by anyway.”

“Does your brain not function properly? Or are you intentionally a dumbass? You saw my paycheck.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Of course you don’t.” Andrew gave Neil a once-over before saying, “Alright. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Back to work. We need to make up the minutes you wasted on your useless apology.”

-

If Andrew didn’t get along with anyone, it wasn’t because he didn’t try. It wasn’t his fault that the world was filled with condescending assholes, himself included. Truth be told, Aaron wasn’t the evil twin. Andrew was.

Maybe that was why he was closing tonight, when it should've been Neil. Right now,  _ he _ should’ve been on his way to Jean's house and Neil should've been wiping down tables. Jean needed help with English and of course the only night he was available was on Saturday. Andrew should've known not to mess with the schedules. But when Neil asked him to cover for him tonight, how could he say no?

The only person he could really rely on was himself, he's known this for years, and now he was paying for his trust. He was too loose with it.

It was as if Andrew summoned him. Saying his name was a curse itself. He wrung the rag out and said, “Neil should be here. Neil should be doing this. What the fuck is the point of a co-worker if you’re still the only one doing anything-”

The entrance bell chimed.

Andrew struggled not to flinch.

Ultimately, he didn’t, but it’s the trying that matters. 

What was with Neil and dramatic entrances? 

“The sign says that we’re closed. You should know that.”

“Okay, I _do_ know that but-” Neil’s voice was frantic and he sounded out of breath. He didn’t look too good either, and that was saying something. His hair was tied up in an orange bandanna and his fingers were stained with something black. “Hide me?”

“Do I even want to know?”

“You will. Soon."

"Are you running for something or are you just going to keep giving me cryptic answers?"

"Thank you."

Neil didn’t even bother flipping the counter up to get into the employee area. He just jumped over them and bolted into the break room. 

The break room has a back door that leads to Andrew's alleyway. The alleyway goes two ways and if Neil chose correctly, one of those ways would secure his freedom from whatever he was running from. Andrew had a feeling he was going to find out.

We’ve established that the sign outside says, “Sorry! We’re Closed!” but obviously, this asshole dressed in all black couldn't read. Was Andrew the only literate person in Palmetto? He had nothing against goths and especially nothing against illiterate goths, but the people who just walked through the door didn't fit into either category. 

They were Ravens, and their team hoodies made sure everyone was aware of that. Edgar Allen was a prep-school that took everything too seriously, sports included. The Ravens were the douche bags that attended the school. Their hubris was unmatched. Everyone knew the Ravens, whether you had an actual conversation with them or not and _everyone_ knew Riko Moriyama, the nephew of the school's Exy Coach. 

Riko broke Kevin Day’s left hand. That's why he moved to Palmetto. At least, that’s what Kevin had told him. He wasn’t so sure about the things Kevin Day had told him anymore, but he was positive that Riko was a prick, broken hand withstanding.

“Okay, seriously, what the fuck? We. Are. Closed.”

“I’m looking for someone.” Riko peered his head around, searching.

“Well, I’m no one so,” he spun in an overdramatic circle and made an obnoxious show of looking around the shop as well, “don’t know what to tell you.”

Riko ignored him, “I’m looking for a redhead. Short, runs real fast, tells you to eat shit when you catch him doing obviously illegal things. He vandalized our court.”

“Oh?”

One of the Ravens spoke up, “We know he’s here, so if you could just cut this short and-”

“I’m going to stop you right there and let you in on a little secret. I do not give a single shit about Exy. I do not give a single shit about your court. I don’t know why some redhead would run here since we are very obviously  _ closed.” _ He couldn’t stress how closed they were. 

“And I don’t know why you think that I would give you information on him, even if he was here. But as you can see, your little vandal isn't. So now that I've told you something about myself, how about you share something about yourselves?”

Was Riko’s tipping point that last comment? Or was it when his precious court was allegedly defiled by Neil? In the end, it didn’t matter when he decided to snap, because Andrew was going to pay for it. He was  _ always  _ going to pay for it. Even though this was Neil’s punishment and Andrew just got stuck with it. Yet another thing Andrew was doing for Neil.

Riko took the first swing but it was a Raven who went down first. Then another. And another. Andrew had been in plenty of fights before, that was part of the reason he didn’t go to school, but there were just too many of them to take on by himself. Everytime one fell, two more came up, ready to take their place. 

The conspiracy eventually managed to pin Andrew down on the table. Arms. Legs. It didn’t matter how much he struggled, this was a fact. There were many things you were born knowing, biologically. Then there were things that you learned. Things that were instilled within you with the passing of time. Learned behavior was what they called it, and here was Andrew’s learned behavior; knowing when to stay down and fucking live.

He supposed this developed when he was seven, the first time he was told to say please. He’d hated the word ever since, he cringed whenever a customer said it. It continued on with the tickling and was set in stone  when Cass Spear’s son came home in between deployments. He wouldn't speak his name, even after all these years. The asshole didn't deserve it. Andrew had been staying down and living for as long as he could remember, and Hatford always said that if someone wanted the money in the register, you should just give it to them. But Riko didn’t want the money in the register. He wanted Neil’s head on a platter.

He took Andrew’s face in his hands. He looked angry. Andrew thought he did too. 

“What the hell do you want?” He forced his voice to sound calm. A light in the dark.

“You know what I want.”

Andrew wouldn’t let him have it. If anyone was going to kill Neil, it would be Andrew. He spit in Riko’s face and said what he thought would be his last words, “You can't have him.”

So maybe his behavior only applied to situations that he thought he could make it out of. Obviously, this did not constitute as one. Goodbye, cruel world. Fuck you very much!

The beating probably lasted seven minutes in total but it felt like seven years. He didn’t scream or cry. Not when they laughed at his expenses. Not when he thought he was on the verge of passing out. Only one Raven left with bloodied knuckles. Riko Moriyama really was a prick. Kevin was right. 

Andrew lay on the table, alone and tired. He probably looked aesthetically pathetic in that moment. The cigarette he’d put in his mouth only added to this image.

“Next time, Nathaniel,” he felt comfortable calling him Nathaniel now. Mostly because he decided that they were most certainly not friends. Andrew didn’t know much about the subject of friends, but he was pretty sure they didn’t take beatings for each other. Taking a punch-or in his case, several punches-for someone seemed like a much more intimate thing to do. So yeah, definitely not friends. “You close the fucking cafe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading  
> feel free to feed my ego down below :)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> feel free to feed my ego down below :)


End file.
